Freaky
by kbrand5333
Summary: AU set sometime in the future wherein Abbie discovers a rather surprising facet of Ichabod's personality. Pretty much all smut.
1. Chapter 1

Abbie was expecting the flowers and notes and other little romantic tokens. She was expecting the flattering words and longing gazes. She was expecting to be well and thoroughly wooed by Ichabod Crane.

She _wasn't_ expecting him to be a freak in the bedroom.

Certainly she'd heard the term "freak" applied to him in the years in which they've been acquainted. Usually, it was muttered by some judgmental idiot side-eyeing his antiquated wardrobe and manner.

She just never imagined she'd be applying that term to the man she loves.

Actually, "freaky" is a more apt description. Crane isn't a freak. He's _freaky._

And, he does, in fact, woo her with flowers and tokens. Abbie never has a reason to doubt his devotion to or love for her.

However, Abbie was expecting to be the tutor and he the student when it came to their physical relationship. She was expecting to have to convince him that it was okay to engage in "marital relations" even though they weren't married (yet. She always seems to mentally add that "yet"). And, their first time together was beautiful and wonderful, but it did not take long for Crane to come out of his shell.

The tables turned so quickly that Abbie found herself handcuffing Crane to her bed before she fully realized what was happening.

Crane is lying in the center of her bed, each hand cuffed to a bedpost. He's restrained, but giving orders. Abbie, caught in his thrall, follows his directives without question.

Not because she feels obligated. She knows she can refuse. She knows _he_ knows she trusts him completely. Because he trusts _her_ completely (she's got him naked and handcuffed to her bed, for crying out loud).

And damn, does he have charisma.

Abbie does as he asks because she loves him. And, if she is completely honest, she _likes_ this unexpected side of him.

It's hot.

_Really_ hot.

"Miss Mills, you still have your underthings on," Crane comments, his eyes raking over her form as she stands at the end of the bed. Now, he only calls her "Miss Mills" when they are in the bedroom. Outside, he calls her "Abbie," and occasionally, "Lieutenant," but he's chosen to keep "Miss Mills" for _special_ occasions.

"So it seems," she says, shrugging one shoulder. Because she knows her impertinence just pokes the skunk. And, it's _fun._

"Miss Mills, you _will_ remove those... garments," he says, waving a restrained hand ineffectively.

"You _chose_ these garments_,_ I'll remind you," she says.

"You needn't remind me of anything," he answers haughtily, his left eyebrow rising in the _way_ that lately makes Abbie's knees wobbly and her panties damp. "And now I _choose_ for you to remove those garments." He pauses, licking his lips. "Slowly."

"Very well, Captain," she answers. It's meant to be teasing, but the pleasurable rumble that is his reply tells her she's going to be calling him "Captain" in the bedroom from now on. She turns around, her back to him, reaches up, and unclasps her bra. As she slides it from her shoulders, she hears his voice behind her.

"Minx," Crane growls. She looks over her shoulder at him as she extends her arm and drops her bra to the floor. Then, her back still facing him, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and slides it down, bending at the waist. He groans.

Abbie straightens up and slowly turns around, facing him again.

"Dear God, I never get tired of the sight of you, Miss Mills," he says, his fingers flexing ineffectively as his eyes rake over her.

"You're not so bad, yourself," she replies, allowing her eyes to travel up and down his long, lean form, lingering over his thick erection, resting on his stomach.

"Come up here," he says.

Abbie climbs up on the bed by his feet, kneeling on either side of his legs . "What can I do for you, Captain?" she asks, her hands stroking his thighs.

"Mmm," he says, biting his lower lip suggestively. "I should like to watch you. But, come closer, please."

She doesn't need to ask what it is he wants to watch. "Of course," she answers, shuffling closer, straddling his hips, still on her knees. She runs her hands over her breasts a few times, flicking her nipples just enough to make them stand up for him. Crane licks his lips, his eyes dark with passion.

She slides one hand down and parts her lips, slipping two fingers between, spreading the wetness he brought on without even touching her. She moans a little as her fingers circle her button, her back arching involuntarily. Her other hand is still toying with a nipple, and she pinches it as she plunges her fingers inside herself, pumping them in and out a few times. "Oh..." she breathes.

"Yes," he murmurs, "that's lovely."

His voice does things to her as much as his eyebrow does and she moans again. Then, she drops forward, depositing her breast into his mouth. He groans and latches on, kissing and sucking her breast, flicking her nipple with his tongue.

Abbie reaches for his shaft, rubbing her hand over him, wrapping her wet fingers around and squeezing _just _enough.

She leans back, bends down and kisses him, then lowers her hips, sheathing him within her.

"Miss Mills..." he says, struggling to make his voice stern. It is meant as a warning.

"Just a detour," she says. She slowly slides up and down on his shaft four times, then pulls away.

"Fuck," he gasps, tightly closing his eyes.

" All things in time , Captain," Abbie coos.

"Do not use my words against me, Miss Mills," he says, opening one eye. Usually, it is he who is chastising her to be patient.

She laughs and continues moving up his body, still straddling him. She sits on his chest, sliding herself around a little, spreading her wetness on his body, feeling the texture of his chest hair against her sensitive flesh.

"Mmm," he hums. "My favorite cologne."

Abbie grins and moves higher until she is straddling his face. She lowers herself onto his open mouth, moaning loudly as his tongue comes forward to meet her.

His voice and his eyebrows are wonderful. His _tongue_ is magnificent. Sublime. Magical. Abbie grabs the headboard of the bed to keep herself from collapsing onto his face. Somehow, she thinks he wouldn't mind meeting his maker being smothered by her _this_ way, but today is not that day.

"Cra— Icha— _Captain,_" she finally manages to get the right name, her fingers clutching the wood of the headboard like her life depended on it. He is relentless, his tongue circling and flicking and thrusting and licking and after an eternity that is far, far too short, she cries out loudly, reflexively lifting up to escape his blissful torture as she powerfully comes. "_Damn_," she gasps, collapsing backward, lying awkwardly on his torso, her head on his hip.

"Interesting view," Crane deadpans, looking down at her, spread before him.

Abbie laughs and moves, straightening herself out. She leans down and kisses him. His beard is wet with her juices and she tastes herself as she kisses him.

"You're going to leave that in your beard as long as you can, aren't you?" she asks, touching her nose to his.

"Indeed I am, Miss Mills," he says, smirking mischievously. "You are my favorite scent."

"And _you_ are amazingly dirty in the sweetest way," she says, returning his grin.

"Thank you very much," he says, raising that eyebrow again.

"Ooo," she coos, kissing him again as she reaches for his manhood. "Your turn?"

"Yes, please," he answers, flexing his hips upward, pressing himself into her hand.

Abbie kisses him once more, deeply, hungrily, then lifts her head. She winks at him, sits back, and turns around.

"Miss Mills?" he asks, temporarily perplexed.

She straddles him, this time with her back to him, and sinks down over his erection again, bracing her hands on his thighs.

"Oh... temptress... you are too cruel," he groans, pulling at his restraints now. The metal bites into his wrists and he sharply sucks air in between his teeth.

Abbie looks over her shoulder at him. "Okay?" she gasps, still moving up and down over him.

"Yes," he answers, his voice raspy. "Mmm, I must say your... backside is... oh... quite delectable," he grunts, falling back into her rhythm, his eyes now glued on the perfect round backside bobbing in his field of vision. "Oh, yes..."

Crane feels one of her hands leave his thigh, sees her arm move as it skims over her breast, and down again.

"Miss Mills, are you touching yourself?" he grunts.

"Yes," she breathes, her head dropping back. "Mmm, yes, I am," she says, increasing her pace, moving faster, harder.

"Yes..." he echoes. Abbie can hear his breathing grow heavy and erratic behind her. She's close, too, and arches her back, slightly changing the angle as well as more deliberately pointing her backside at Crane.

"Mmm," she moans, "Ichabod..."

"Oh, yes... oh, Abbie..." he chokes out her name as he comes, his entire body tensing beneath her.

Abbie is right with him, crying out wordlessly at the same time, her knees reflexively squeezing his hips.

He always reverts back to "Abbie" from "Miss Mills" at that moment. It always makes Abbie's heart swell when she hears it.

Crane exhales a long breath and Abbie carefully slides off of him, crawling over to retrieve the key to the handcuffs from the nightstand. She instinctively knows he needs to be freed as soon as possible and makes quick work of the cuffs, leaving them dangling from the bedposts for now.

As soon as his hands are freed they are on her body, pulling her into his embrace, caressing her skin. He tugs her up to lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around her as they kiss.

"I love you." They whisper the words over and over to each other in between their kisses, returning to earth.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, I bought you some—" Abbie's words stop in her throat and she almost drops their groceries when she sees Crane sitting in the living room, blithely reading _Fifty Shades of Grey_. "Um..."

"This is a fascinating book," he says, looking up. "Though, I fear Mr. Grey has some deep-seated psychological issues."

"Um, yeah." Abbie is a bit flabbergasted. She intentionally hid those three volumes at the bottom of her bookshelf so he wouldn't find them. _Should have put them in a box in the basement. Or buried them in the backyard._

She learned th_e hard_ way that if you want to hide something from a tall person, you stash it low, not high.

_"Miss Mills, is this what I think it is?" Crane asks, the object in question held securely in his large hand._

_ Abbie looks up at him and her eyes widen. When she made some room in a couple of dresser drawers and part of her closet so he could bring some things over, she hastily and thoughtlessly shoved her vibrator (previously located in one of said dresser drawers) under a pile of sweaters on the shelf in her closet._

_ Forgetting it was there (because who needs it with him around?), she retrieved a sweater from the pile this morning, and it must have shifted._

Damn tall people._ She mentally cursed Crane and the height she usually finds quite attractive._

_ "That depends. What do you think it is?" she asks carefully. She studies his face. As usual, it is passive, giving away very little, but his eyes are alight with salacious anticipation._

_ "It appears to be a dildo," he casually declares, inspecting it._

_ Abbie's jaw drops. "Y-you know what a dildo is?"_

_ "Of course. These devices date back to prehistory, my sweet. Certainly you didn't think this was a purely modern invention," he says._

_ "Oh, really?" she asks, standing, a challenge in her eyes. She places one hand over Crane's holding the vibrator and strokes the shaft with the other. "But, could those prehistoric deals do this?" She slides her hand to the very bottom of it and presses the button, firing it to life._

_ "Oh!" Crane exclaims, surprised. If Abbie hadn't been holding his hand, he would have dropped it. "Mmm, that has delightful possibilities..." he rumbles._

_ Abbie guides their hands downward, smirking at him, and presses the device against his groin, taking him by surprise. He shouts a sharp, incoherent sound, and Abbie giggles uncontrollably._

_ "Oh, now, we shall have to do something about this," he says, mock-stern, tugging her back to the bedroom. "How did I not see that button?" he wonders aloud, lifting the vibrator and inspecting the bottom. "Ah, I see. Hidden." He turns it off, then turns his attention back to Abbie. "Miss Mills: bed, if you please."_

_ "Oh, so it's like that, is it?" she asks, sauntering to the bed. Crane sets the vibrator on the bed, then yanks his shirt off and tosses it aside. He reaches down and starts removing Abbie's pants._

_ He tugs her jeans off and smoothes his hands up her legs, leaving them tingling. He kisses her thigh, then lifts her torso to remove her t-shirt._

_ He drops her shirt on a chair, then leans over her on the bed, kissing her deeply, his large hand lovingly cupping her cheek._

_ "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asks, murmuring the words against her neck, his warm soft lips and tongue sliding against her skin while his beard tickles._

_ "Hmm? I don't even remember what I was doing," Abbie whispers, wrapping her leg around his hip. She then notices he still has his trousers on, so she slides her hands downward to start removing them._

_ "Mmm, I like that I can distract you so," he purrs, sliding his hands beneath her back reaching for the clasp of her bra. She arches her back to assist him, and a moment later her bra is hitting the floor. He scoots back and away from her, shucking his pants, but leaving his boxer briefs on._

_ Abbie openly leers at his slender, muscular form, her eyes lingering over the noticeable bulge in the front of his underwear._

_ "Miss Mills, my eyes are up here, if you please," Crane teases, and she laughs. "Now, then, where were we? Yes." He sits on the bed again, leaning over Abbie. He kisses her deeply, then works his way down her neck, between her breasts to her stomach, trailing kisses. He slides his hand up her thigh and hooks his long fingers into the elastic of her panties. She lifts her hips and he slips them down over her legs and drops them to the floor._

_ He gropes for the vibrator, his lips still worshiping her skin, and tries to turn it on without looking at it. Unable to find the button, he grunts in irritation and lifts his head._

_ Abbie giggles at him again, but her laughter is cut short when the now-vibrating device drags over her folds. "Oh..." she gasps. _It's been so long since I've used it.

_ "Fascinating," he whispers, watching how she responds to the way he moves the vibrator. Her back arches. Her nipples tighten. Her lips part. He leans down and kisses those lips, momentarily distracted._

_ "Beautiful," he murmurs._

_ He brings the vibrator up, touching it to her erect nipples._

_ "Mmm," she hums, squirming a little._

_ He moves it downward, dragging it over her body and sliding it into her, moving it in and out a few times._

_ "Oh," she moans, angling her hips to meet each thrust as he moves it in and out._

_ He moves it out and up a couple inches, touching it to her sensitive button._

_ "Yes," she gasps, her body arching off the bed._

_ Crane curses under his breath and drops the vibrator on the bed. Abbie looks up, confused, and sees him yanking his boxer briefs off. He is over her in a flash, kissing her hungrily and nudging his hips in between her thighs._

_ Abbie welcomes him, pulling him towards her as he guides himself into her, filling her completely. "Oh..." he groans, holding himself rooted within her, not moving._

_ He starts thrusting, slowly at first. The vibrator buzzes on the bed beside them, and he scoops it up. Abbie thinks he's going to turn it off, but instead, he gives her one more searing kiss, then leans back, gripping her hip in one hand while he brings the vibrator back to her with the other._

_ "Ooo," she moans. "Oh, yes..."_

_ The vibrations reach Crane's shaft as well, and he groans again, only this time it turns into a growl as he increases his pace, driving them to their completion._

_ "Oh... Ichabod!" she cries out as she climaxes, her hand frantically knocking the vibrator away, unable to take any more._

_ "Abbie," he croaks, collapsing over her, but mindful he doesn't crush her. He smiles against her neck as he feels her arms wrap around his shoulders, hugging him tightly._

_ Beside them, the vibrator continues to hum, forgotten for the moment as he murmurs words of love in her ear._

"So, what was it you bought me?" Crane's voice interrupts her memory, and Abbie realizes she's been standing and staring.

She also realizes her panties are slightly damp.

"Hmm? Oh, peanut butter Oreos. They were on special," she answers, shaking her head slightly.

"Excellent. Thank you, Treasure," Crane smiles, tucking a bookmark into the book and setting it on the table. He strides over to her, kisses her, and lifts the grocery bag from her arms.

Abbie is leaning down, putting a box of cereal in the pantry cupboard when she feels Crane behind her. He presses against her back as she straightens up, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"The combination of that book and this backside," he purrs, squeezing said backside, "is putting thoughts into my head."

Abbie leans against him and tilts her head back to receive his kiss. "You don't need any help getting thoughts in your head," she informs him.

"True," he says, steering her over to the table. He turns her so she is facing him, then he lifts her and sets her on it, standing between her knees.

"Crane," Abbie weakly protests, her disobedient legs already wrapping around him, "I'm putting away groceries."

"Miss Mills," he insists, kissing her. "You've gotten everything that requires refrigeration put away," he says in between kisses. "The rest can wait." Then, he slides his hands under her blouse.


	3. Chapter 3

_ "Mrs. Crane!" Abbie exclaimed, running towards the __woman,__ lying __in a heap on the floor. She was limp and covered in her own blood, but still alive. "Mrs. Crane… Katrina… stay with me…" she pled, dropping to the floor, grasping the prone woman's shoulders, and setting her head in her lap. "Where are you wounded?" Abbie asked, beginning to check Katrina over._

_"Miss Mills," Katrina had whispered. Rasped. Her hand weakly came up to cover Abbie's, stopping i__ts movement__. Only then could Abbie see the __deep gashes in the witch's wrists._

_ "Katrina… what have you done?" Abbie gasped, now reaching for Katrina's skirts, looking for something to bind her wounds and stop the blood. "Crane!" she shouted, unsure of where her partner was in these God-forsaken tunnels._

_ "No," Katrina protested. "This is how… it must be. This is the only way I can… escape from Abraham…"_

_ "You escape Death by killing yourself? That doesn't make sense!" Abbie said, trying to tear a strip of material from Katrina's skirts. The fabric, though old, wouldn't give, and Abbie growled in frustration._

_ "It is only in dying that I may… escape his clutches," she explained, her breathing ragged, chopping her speech into fragments. "He must… allow me to… cross over… as Death, he is bound… no choice…"_

_ "Crane!" Abbie yelled again, desperate. His wife cannot die here in my arms while he is somewhere else. "Crane!"_

_ "Miss Mills," Katrina's soft whisper brought Abbie's attention back. "You must… open your heart to him," she said, bringing her hand up and resting it over Abbie's heart. "You… have walls… around it…"_

_ "Him? Him who?" Abbie aske__d, but she knew the answer._

_ "You have let… few people inside, but… you have allowed i__t... at times__," Katrina continued. "Jenny… August Corbin… You must let Ichabod in."_

_ "But…"_

_ "He was never mine to keep," Katrina sighed, her hand dropping from__ Abbie's chest, leaving a streaked, red handprint on her skin and shirt. "My duty was… to deliver him to… to you… to ensure he… was united with__ you…" Her voice was getting much weaker._

_ "Katrina…" Abbie begge__d__, knowing her partner would be crushed and heartbroken._

_ "Abbie," Katrina rasped, then coughed. Blood trickled from the corner of her __mouth__, and Abbie delicately wiped it away. "Love him well." Her eyes closed. "Tell him… tell him I loved him… and… I release his heart... into… your care…" She opened her eyes one final time and looked directly into Abbie's for a few seconds._

_ Lieutenant Abbie Mills watched as the __light__ left Katrina Cran__e's eyes._

_ Tears she didn't realize were falling landed on Katrina's pale face, and she wiped them away, then gently closed the witch's eyes._

_ "Crane… Ichabod…" Abbie closed her eyes and whispered, still cradling Katrina._

_ When Crane arrived a few minutes later, he was wide-eyed and desperate. "I… I felt you calling for me, Lieutenant…" he gasped, out of breath from running. "We just secured Abraham under the lights again, and… oh, God!" he exclaimed, finally walking into the chamber far enough to see the scene before him._

_ He collapsed to the ground, wrapping his arms around both women._

xXx

"So... did you do these kinds of things with Katrina?" Abbie asks, cradled naked in his arms, snuggling against him in a post-coital cocoon of warmth and love. It's a question that's been on her mind since he first shed his inhibitions. She absently rubs the marks on her wrists from where one of her scarves was tied around it.

Crane takes her hand and kisses the faint marks, rubbing her skin gently with his thumb. "She was not as... accommodating as you are, my love."

Abbie lifts her head and looks at him. "Really?"

"She was quite reserved."

"She was a _witch._"

He lifts his head to look at her. "She was a _Quaker_, as far as I knew," Crane reminds her, raising an eyebrow. He drops his head back against the pillow. "This is not a topic with which I am comfortable," he adds.

"I'm curious, though," Abbie gently presses, shifting so she is lying on her stomach on top of him. She folds her hands on his chest and rests her chin atop them. "She's been gone over a year, plus she gave us her blessing, remember? In fact, she knew before we did. Well, before _I_ did, anyway."

Crane smiles guiltily, recalling his admission of how he had first realized the beginnings of romantic feelings for her on that fateful day when she convinced him to leave her in Purgatory. Of course, at the time, he was horrified and resolutely pushed them away. "What would you like to know?" he sighs smiling slightly, conceding to her. As always. _She never fails t__o__ answer my questions. It is only fair that I reciprocate._

"Was it really against the law to do... well, most of the things we've been doing?"

He nods. "No touching below the waist. No giving oral pleasure." He raises an eyebrow at her. "And I'm sure tying your lover up and spanking her before giving her a good hard shag would have been frowned upon as well."

Abbie giggles and drops her forehead against her hands. "So, then... how...?" she asks, lifting her head again.

"In the most basic sense," he answers, not realizing he's answering the _wrong_ question. "Mostly employing what I believe is now referred to as 'the missionary position.' I convinced her to – as you very accurately say – _ride_ me once. It was certainly pleasurable, but... I would have liked more variety."

"Actually, what I was going to ask is how do you know about all this kinky shit we do?"

"Katrina was not my first," he admits. "She knew this. There were... places one could go... safe places... to indulge oneself." He pauses a moment. "And now, with the miracle of the Internet, worlds have been opened to me."

"I don't know if I am glad I showed you how to surf the 'net or not," Abbie chuckles.

"I found your books about Mr. Grey, and they were nowhere near the computer," Crane points out, and Abbie laughs harder.

"Wow. So, Katrina was boring in the sack, hey?"

Crane pinches her backside in response, and she squeaks. "I never said 'boring'. I simply stated that I would have enjoyed a wider range of activities. The important thing was we loved one another and we did share our love behind closed doors. Frequently. And, that's more than many couples could hope for in those days."

"That's more than many couples have _these_ days," Abbie amends.

"She did... one time... she agreed to..."

"Ooo, what did she do?" Abbie asks, perking up.

"We traded garments once. She wore my shirt and trousers and I donned one of her gowns."

Abbie's mouth opens wide, smiling in disbelief. "Her gown fit you?"

"You may have noticed I am a rather slender man," he says. "And Katrina was not as tiny as you, though she was still quite slim. I merely slipped it on. We did not fasten it." He scowls slightly. "The shoulders did give me trouble. And, of course, it was much too short."

Abbie has been giggling the whole time, picturing him struggling with Katrina's gown. "What did you do?"

"I pulled her trousers off of her as slowly as I dared, then rucked up my skirts and gave her a good..." he leans his head up and kisses her, "hard..." he kisses her again, longer, squeezing her backside, "fuck," he finishes.

"Dirty mouth," Abbie teasingly chides. She can probably count the number of times she's heard him say that particular word on one hand. _And that's probably a good thing, because there's something about the way he says it that just makes me_ _want to..._ She leans up and kisses him deeply, writhing slightly atop him. "So... you like to play dress up, hmm?"

xXx

Crane returned from an after-dinner walk a few days later to find a bag on the table with a note taped to it.

"Abbie?" he called, not seeing any sign of her. "Love?" He lifts the note and puzzles over it.

_Put this on, then come find me._

A small smile spreads across his face. "Hmm, a game, then?" he mutters, reaching into the bag.

He finds a costume in red, black and gray, complete with a helmet and a large, plastic hammer. Smiling, he recalls their conversation several days prior and knows exactly what has inspired the evening's activities.

Thus far, Abbie has shown him _The Avengers_, both Thor movies, both Captain America movies, and all three Iron Man movies. Crane is quite familiar with the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Crane is also quite familiar with Abbie's crush on Thor, played by Mr. Hemsworth of Australia (though Mr. Mackie's Falcon from the second Captain America movie is now a close second).

So, it is not a surprise that she would have him don a Thor costume for this little escapade.

"I suppose I should be grateful the bag did not contain a blue shirt and false, pointed ears." he mutters, taking the bag to the spare bedroom to change. Abbie has also subjected him to _Star Trek_, but only the "new" movies. She's been promising to "show him the older stuff one of these days," but they haven't gotten around to it as of yet. "However, I do not think I would have minded the white shirt and black waistcoat that is Captain Solo's favored garb," he adds, _Star Wars_ springing to mind as he pulls the tie from his hair to facilitate the helmet. He smiles as he recalls how pleased she was when he recognized that Natalie Portman and Samuel L. Jackson were in _The Avengers _as well as some of the _Star Wars_ movies.

"Hmm, if I am Thor, surely that means Abbie will be Jane Foster," he smiles. "Or Loki," he frowns, remembering some frankly quite disturbing things she told him about "shipping" and "fan-fiction" and how there are people who "ship" Thor with Loki. _I do hope she has chosen Jane Foster. Mr. Hiddleston is brilliant, but I much prefer Miss Portman. A female version of Loki would have definite potential for being quite delicious, however..._

Crane heads to the bedroom they have been sharing, clad in his own trousers and boots along with a vest made from some strange plastic-like material, red cape, and plastic winged helmet, plastic Mjolnir dangling from one hand.

He pauses outside the closed bedroom door. _She must be in there; the door is never closed._ A crafty smile creeping across his face, he reaches for the handle, then bursts in as heroically as possible.

"You have summoned me, Jane Foster?" he booms, striving for Thor's heroic speech cadence.

Abbie is facing a white board she has set on a dresser, which she has covered with various numbers and letters, attempting to make it look vaguely scientific. He can see e = mc2, a2 + b2 = c2, a recipe for some sort of baked good, and a section that appears to be a grocery list, among other things.

She turns and her lips twitch momentarily as she takes in the sight of him. For her part, she's wearing jeans and a t-shirt topped with a plaid flannel shirt. Her hair is loose and she has on a pair of glasses. In one hand is a dry-erase marker and the other is clutching some sort of hand-held electronic device Crane doesn't recognize.

"Thor," Abbie says, a smile spreading across her face. "I've figured out the formula that will repair the Bifrost."

Crane steps forward, slowly walking towards her. "This is most excellent news, Jane. It will allow us to more easily move between realms once again."

Abbie sets the marker down and removes her glasses, which Crane now sees have no lenses in them. _They were most attractive on her, however._ "I know," she says, her voice dropping to a more seductive tone. "That's why I'm trying to fix it," she adds, running her hand over his chest.

"I do believe this is cause for celebration," Crane says, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him like he's seen Thor do in the movies. He leans down and kisses her, slowly and softly at first, then intensifying as his desire increases.

Abbie drops the electronic device and slides her hands around his chest to hold his back. Crane drops Mjolnir and lifts her into his arms, growling deliciously.

She wraps her legs around his waist, tangling them in his cape. He carries her the short distance to the bed, slides his hands to grasp her under her arms, and tosses her – carefully – to the bed.

"Cr— Thor!" Abbie squeals, a giggle escaping.

Crane keeps his eyes locked on her as he removes his cape and tosses it aside with a flourish. "Jane Foster, I have wanted you for many of your Earth years," he says, removing his faux-armored vest. "Since the day I first laid eyes on you." He steps out of his boots, looking down only briefly. "After you struck me with your automobile. I opened my eyes and, confronted with your beauty, I thought I surely was in Valhalla."

Abbie's eyebrows rise, impressed. _I don't remember them talking about Valhalla in the movies. He must have done some independent research._ "Thor," she says, shrugging out of her flannel shirt and throwing it on top of his cape, "I've been waiting for you." She pulls her t-shirt off, revealing that she's not wearing a bra beneath it. "For so long," she continues, lying back on the bed.

"Wait no more, fair maiden, for I intend to have you until we are both weak and spent." He removes his trousers and underwear. He lifts his hand to his helmet, intending to remove it.

"Leave it on," Abbie whispers, biting her lower lip seductively.

Crane quirks an eyebrow, but drops his hands. He moves to the bed and continues his speech as he prowls over her. "You will know ecstasy this night. You and I will glimpse Valhalla," he rumbles, kissing his way up her body.

"Wow," Abbie gasps, overcome by his kisses and his words. "_Damn_."

"I will not stop until you are screaming my name, Jane Foster," Crane promises, sucking a waiting nipple into his mouth. "And then, I will begin anew." He licks a trail up to her neck.

"Oh..." Abbie moans, arching beneath him. "Damn, but you're good at this..."

Crane doesn't know if she's praising his prowess as a lover or his commitment to his role, but he grins against her skin regardless, because he realizes he doesn't care which. _She is pleased, that is all that matters._

She pulls his head up to hers, kissing him deeply, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, pushing it against his as they tangle and slide.

He groans, his hand roving her body, drinking in the softness of her skin beneath his calloused hands. One moves lower, slipping between her legs.

"Ah," she breathes, tearing her lips away when he touches her, lifting her hips, searching for more contact.

Crane moves to kiss her neck, and his helmet knocks against Abbie's nose. She curses lightly and removes it, tossing it carelessly to the floor. "Worth a shot," she gasps, threading her fingers into Crane's hair as he places wet, hungry kisses on her neck.

"I knew it would not last," he mutters against her skin. He nips the soft place where Abbie's neck and shoulder meet, then soothes the spot with his tongue, drawing a whimper from her. His fingers continue to dip and sweep between her legs, and her head tosses on the pillow, the sensations threatening to overtake her.

"_I'm_ not gonna last," she moans, reaching between them to grasp his length, stroking him until his breathing is shallow and harsh.

"Miss— Jane," Crane gasps, and Abbie smiles at having gotten him to slip up. She stops moving her hand on him and gently guides him into place.

He enters her swiftly and with some force, burying himself deep. Abbie cries out and clings to his shoulders, and he pauses.

"_Go_," she urges, wrapping her leg around him and kicking him lightly. He growls and obeys her command, pausing only to slide his hands along her arms to take her hands. He twines their fingers together and pins her hands against the mattress on either side of her head.

Crane drops his head, kissing her hungrily, and resumes, unleashing himself fully, thrusting into her until the headboard pounds against the wall.

"Oh... fu... oh, _yes,_ Ichabod!" Abbie tumbles quickly, hips bucking beneath him, her fingernails digging into the backs of his hands.

He thrusts into her a few more times before he stills, his back arching as he presses in as deeply as possible while he floods into her. "Abbie..." he groans, her name a strangled prayer. He releases her hands and drops gently over her, sliding out and resting his head on her chest. He kisses her breasts a few times, then lifts his head and kisses her chin, smiling up at her.

Abbie brushes his damp hair away from his face and kisses him. He hums happily against her lips, then rolls off of her, tucking her against his side.

They are quiet for a few minutes. Crane's long fingers drag idly over Abbie's skin; Abbie's smaller fingers gently trace the scar on his chest.

After a while, Crane stirs, lifting up slightly to look down at Abbie, eyebrow raised saucily. She looks up at him, intrigued.

"Another!" he declares, and Abbie falls into a fit of laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

"Take your knickers off," Ichabod mutters into Abbie's ear. He kisses her cheek while in the area, then adds, "Now," before straightening up and returning to his meal.

They are at the annual Sleepy Hollow Policeman's Banquet, seated at a table with six other people.

He glances over at her and raises an eyebrow, silently asking her why she has not begun to comply with his request.

Abbie leans towards him and he ducks his head to meet her. "You're making assumptions," she says. She smirks at him and sits back.

"Miss Mills," he softly says, using _that_ form of her name. The one reserved for special occasions.

_Naked_ occasions.

Abbie chuckles, knowing he has misunderstood. She knows he has because she was intentionally vague.

She reaches under the table and taps his thigh. He puzzles at her. "Hand," she whispers. The other diners at the table are not paying them the least bit of attention, so he drops his right hand beneath the table.

She takes his hand and moves it to her leg, on her bare knee. She slides his hand upward, under her skirt, until he takes over, moving it higher and slightly inward. Before long, he feels warm, damp curls against his knuckles. He gently explores, his long fingers softly probing, while Abbie clutches her fork.

"I was making assumptions, indeed," Crane mutters, raising his eyebrow again as his finger finds her sweet spot and circles it a few times. "Naughty minx," he adds, his voice very low.

"This was a bad idea," Abbie whispers. "I should have just told you I wasn't wearing any."

"Oh, my dear, I disagree," he says, sliding his finger inside. He moves it in and out a few times, then withdraws it, leaving her feeling empty, her breathing shallow. He sucks the digit clean, then blithely returns to his meal.

xXx

Abbie spends the rest of the meal in a perplexed state of frustration, wondering exactly why Crane requested she remove her panties. _Obviously, he had something more in mind than what he already did. And, that was my fault._

Dinner has ended and speeches have been made. Abbie and Crane sit at their table near the back, watching the other officers and spouses mingle and drink. Crane has retrieved beverages for them, but does not seem inclined to circulate amongst the others, so they sit together at their table. Alone.

"That dessert was quite good," he comments, sipping his rum. "I never had much of a sweet tooth in my day, but that perhaps could be attributed to the scarcity of sugar at the time."

"Could be," Abbie answers. She shifts in her seat, still wondering what's going on inside that great big freaky brain of his. She notices how his eyes have been scanning the vicinity as he speaks, so her anticipation begins to build. "Ichab... what are you...?" Abbie's train of thought derails as she sees Crane suddenly disappear beneath the table, completely shrouded by the long tablecloth.

She feels his hands on her knees, pulling her slightly forward and pushing them apart.

"You are not... oh, God, you are..." Abbie whispers through clenched teeth. "Bastard."

His breath puffs against her thigh as he chuckles devilishly, nudging his way forward, forward until he is close enough to reach her. His tongue snakes out, slipping along her folds, and she nearly leaps from her chair. His strong hands on her thighs hold her firmly in place, and she grips the table instead, trying to appear normal. Cool. Collected.

"Hey, Abbie, where's your British shadow?"

_Oh, shit._ "Luke," Abbie answers. She takes a drink of her wine to buy some time. "He... um, he's in the bathroom," she says. Crane slides a finger into her, adding another layer of sensation.

"What's his deal, anyway?" Luke asks, grabbing a chair – thankfully, not Crane's – and plunking down, uninvited, at the table. "I thought he was going to go back to England or whatever."

Abbie bites her lip as Crane suckles her below, flicking his tongue against her nub, then softly massaging it. "H-he likes it here," she says. "Says helping out here is more re... warding than teaching a bunch of mostly-disinterested young people." _That sounds convincing. I think. I... oh, no, no, no..._

Crane adds another finger, increasing the contact. He licks her slowly, lovingly, delaying her gratification.

_He doesn't want me to come while talking to Luke,_ she realizes.

"Bullshit," Luke says. "He's still here for one reason and one reason alone, and we both know what that is." He smirks. "Or, who."

Crane moves his lips to trail along her thigh, kissing it softly, his beard brushing her skin. Abbie is grateful because it gives her a moment to think clearly.

"Crane's reasons for staying are none of your business, Morales," Abbie says. "Besides, it's not like we've been keeping our relationship a secret," she pauses as Crane bites her thigh, then slides his tongue across the spot, "so why are you acting like the neighborhood busybody?"

Luke holds his hands up in surrender. "Geez, sorry. Just giving you shit, Mills. You used to have a sense of humor," he says, pushing his chair out.

"Yeah, and _you_ used to be funny," Abbie retorts, and she feels Crane chuckling against her thigh again. Then, he returns to his original task, his tongue pressing softly against her.

"Later, Ab," Luke says, standing. He looks around. "Hope your boy isn't sick. He's been gone a while," he comments.

"He's fine," Abbie says, her breath coming out a little breathier than she'd like.

Luke gives her a half-hearted wave and walks back to the bar.

Abbie clenches her thighs around Crane's head. "Get up here. Now," she says. "No one is looking."

Crane kisses her thigh and pokes his head out. "Clear?" he asks.

"Yes. Get your skinny ass up here," she says, irritated, aroused, and strangely amused all at once.

He emerges, sitting gracefully in his chair. He reaches for his rum and takes a long drink, then fixes her in his stare. "I'm 'fine'?" he asks archly.

"You know what I meant," Abbie huffs, and he chuckles, lifting her hand and kissing the inside of her wrist.

"Shall we retire?" he asks, rubbing his beard in what appears to be a thoughtful manner. Actually, he's wiping it dry, making sure there is no visible sign of what he had just been doing.

"Yes, please," she answers.

He stands and offers his hand. Abbie takes it and they head for the doors. Irving waves at them, and they return the gesture just before heading out of the room and into the corridor.

Instead of leading her towards the exit, Crane pulls her in the opposite direction, to a darker area of the building.

"Crane, what are you...?"

"No questions," he answers tersely. He peeks into the coatroom, but there aren't enough coats to provide cover. He grunts softly and continues on, trying the knob on the first closed door.

It opens, revealing a janitorial closet.

_Oh, he is not..._

He pulls her inside, closes the door, and presses her against the hard wood.

"Cr—"

He silences her feeble protest with a searing kiss. She can feel his hands working the buttons and fly of his trousers (he agreed to wear modern attire for this event) as his tongue does sinful, delicious things inside her mouth.

It's pitch black inside the closet, heightening their other senses. Especially touch.

"Ah," Crane declares, successful in his efforts. He hoists Abbie into his arms, bracing her shoulders against the door, and somehow manages to bury himself in her before she even has a chance to finish wrapping her legs around him.

"Oh..." Abbie gasps, hanging on to his shoulders as he pounds into her, his lips now trailing carelessly down her neck. She drops her head back against the door, relishing the feel of his lips and beard on her skin, his hands gripping her backside, his shaft thrusting deep within her. "Mmm... oh..."

He groans against the swell of her breasts when he feels her fingers dig into his shoulders. Her breathing speeds up and soft whimpers are dropping from her lips, so he increases his efforts, knowing it won't be long. _Thankfully._

"Oh... y... Ichabod..." she breathes his name, shifting one hand to his head, holding it against her neck as she shatters around him.

"Ab... bie..." His answer comes a moment later, her broken name grunted through gritted teeth as he also endeavors to be quiet.

Having sex in a semi-public place is fun. Being discovered doing so is not.

"Damn," Abbie sighs as Crane slowly releases her. She slides down his body until her feet touch the floor. "_Damn._"

Crane chuckles, knowing her exclamation is not one of regret. He finds her face with his hands and drops his head to find her lips between his thumbs. "I enjoy this darkness," he mutters against her lips. "It requires one to..." he slides a hand down, exploring, "_feel_ one's way around."

Abbie laughs, ineffectively swatting at his hand. "Well, _feel_ your way to the doorknob and see if the coast is clear," she says, making no move to stop kissing.

"I think it would be prudent to first return my soldier to his battalion," he answers, kissing her one final time before fastening his pants.

Abbie laughs harder at this, but takes the opportunity to make sure her dress is covering her bottom half.

Crane opens the door a crack, peeking out. They hear the muffled sounds of the party drifting down the empty hallway, but nothing close. He leans out further.

"Clear," he says, quickly exiting, pulling her with him. They take a moment to check one another over in the light. Abbie fixes Crane's hair where she mussed it. Crane adjusts the strap of her dress.

He takes a moment to gaze down at her. "Have I told you how lovely you look this evening, Lieutenant?"

"Three times, and you know it," Abbie answers, smiling.

Crane offers his arm, and she takes it. They begin walking out. "Well, then, I do not believe I have adequately expressed how much I love you this evening," he says.

She looks up at him. "Only this evening?" she asks, smirking impishly.

"This evening, tomorrow evening... _every_ evening, every day, every night, every moment," he corrects, completely nonplussed by her teasing.

Just outside the doors, Abbie stops on the steps, facing him. He obligingly moves one step lower. "I love you, too, Ichabod," she says, leaning over to kiss him. "And, I think we need to go home and have Round Two."

"Mmm," Crane agrees. He takes her hand and kisses it, heedless of the door opening behind them. "However, this time we shall have all the lights _on._ Every single one. Groping in the dark is quite enjoyable, but I wish to see you," he says, heading down the stairs.

At the top of the steps , an unnoticed Luke Morales stands, gaping.


End file.
